


Run, Rabbit, Run

by Drapetomania



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Angst, Canon Compliant, Derek Has PTSD - Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder, Established Relationship, M/M, Misunderstandings, Song fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-22
Updated: 2015-12-22
Packaged: 2018-05-08 10:27:01
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,162
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5493875
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Drapetomania/pseuds/Drapetomania
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Are you putting on your brave face for me? </p>
<p>I don't want you to pretend, be who you are my friend, that's all I ask,<br/>[..]you're free to make mistakes with me.<br/>[…] you're who you're meant to be just the way you are.<br/>I hope you can let go of this upsetting show and be yourself.<br/>[..]<br/>Have faith, I won't judge you, it's your heart I want to see.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Run, Rabbit, Run

_Tell me you can take it_  
_You're OK more or less_  
_Just another dog's dinner_  
_Just another fine mess_  
_You don't need my charity_  
_You can deal with this_  
_Shrug it all off, shrug it all off_  
_that's the way it is_

∞

“You don’t have to do that, you know.”

Stiles’ voice came out of nowhere, stopping Derek in his tracks. He didn’t turn to face the boy fully.

“What?”

“Put on a brave face.”

“I’m not-”

“You don’t have to shut up, pretend nothing is wrong and run off...”

“I don’t-”

“...and keep denying.”

Derek’s face was rock hard, unreadable to the untrained eye. He was trying to play it off by raising an eyebrow, as if Stiles was the one being stupid.

“I know what it’s like.”

Stiles leaned forward, elbows on his knees and gaze falling to the ground.

“I know what it feels like. I know what it looks like. You can fight it all you want, Derek, but you can’t defeat it.”

His eyes flashed up to Derek again and watched as the man had to steel himself for a second - a second where time seemed to stand still and he thought, almost truly thought the werewolf would give in - before the glazed look was back on his face.

“I’m just going out for a run, Stiles.”

Even an unimpressed glower from the younger male didn’t make him falter before he added, “Don’t wait up for me.”

With those words, he was out the door and Stiles threw the pillow next to him across the room. He didn’t want go after Derek and become another demon that chased him till the first lights of dawn.

∞

_Smile and tell me shit will happen_  
_When all your life your life's been slapping_  
  
_Your brave face is never fooling anybody_  
_Your brave face is putting on a show_  
_Your brave face_  
_You've got to learn to trust somebody_  
_It's time to live, time to cry, time to let it go_

∞

Derek was always asleep when Stiles woke up.

Sometimes his breathing was labored as if he had just come back from his run and was pretending to sleep - Stiles told himself it must be nightmares that he never talked about. He would fight it when Stiles placed a hand in the middle of his chest and it took way too long for his heartbeat to abandon its rapid pace.

Other times Derek's breaths against his neck were so shallow and his heartbeat under his fingertips so slow that he appeared utterly lifeless. It made Stiles' chest hurt because it felt like he was clutching a corpse. He had to concentrate on the fact that as a werewolf Derek's temperature ran higher just to calm himself down. The man was very much alive and warm against him. But what pained him most was to acknowledge that Derek looked most at ease then, like all his walls were down, like there was nothing and no one he needed to keep his distance from.

Stiles wanted to be happy that the werewolf found any kind of peace and content but he desperately wanted to see the life in his eyes along with it and selfishly wanted to be a part of it.

Every morning he had to tear himself away from Derek and ignore the feeling that it might be the last time he would be doing so. He couldn't even convince himself that it was an irrational fear. In the blink of an eye, the calming dark-haired presence could slip between his fingers and disappear back into isolation out in the forest.

_Like it would really make a difference_ , a voice in him pointed out bitterly. He spent half of his time out there anyway.

But then Derek joined him in the kitchen. He came up from behind, wrapped himself around Stiles and the tension bled out of the younger male.

It wasn’t really fair, the way Derek barely had rings under his eyes and the way he could stand straight despite the restless exhaustion that Stiles knew was woven into his bones at this point. It should be making his shoulders slump but with his healthily fair skin and the bright eyes above a squarely set jaw that held a hard, laser-like focus no one expected the demons that ran rampage in his veins.

No one else knew that the constant exercising and the constant runs were not just safety measures. Derek wasn’t just building up muscle. He was trying to fight his battles the only way he knew how, even though it was painfully clear it was of no use. No amount of distance that his legs covered could chase away the circling thoughts. It didn’t matter how many punches he could throw when there was no target.

Derek let Stiles close enough for him to merely observe. That was obviously a bargain he accepted. As long as the human didn’t say anything about it, that was. Stiles had made the mistake. He had confronted him about his bloody knuckles once when he came back from an afternoon run on a day where his eyes had been particularly stormy. The werewolf had just pulled away from his grip, the damaged skin stitching itself together in seconds. They ate dinner in an acidic silence that night, all of Stiles’ attempts at conversation, at connection, falling flat like leaves in the fall.

Derek’s history was widely known, apart from some of the details, but Derek carried himself strong, without a scar to be seen. No battle wounds to show how fragile the werewolf actually was. Sometimes Stiles was still afraid to touch, even if it he had learned that contact tended to soothe the other. Sometimes all Stiles could see were the thin cracks right underneath the surface, weaving their way around Derek like silky spider webs. He was afraid that the weight of his hand could shatter what was left.

That was why he didn’t ask anymore how Derek’s run had been, rather pretending that nothing happened. It left a bitter taste in his mouth that not even a tender kiss could wash away. He didn’t like watching Derek like this. It clawed at his own soul, shredded him bit by bit, hardening his own face into a mask.

But it wasn’t about him. It was for Derek’s sake that this useless game couldn’t go on. So far, Derek was surviving but no clock ticked forever. Derek was falling.

Stiles wasn’t just going to let him crash land.

∞

_I'd like to know how long you think you_  
_can keep the same expression_  
_Never blinking, never shrinking from the_  
_fists you kiss_  
_And I'd like to know how brave_  
_you think that is_

∞

“What are you doing?”

“Putting on my running shoes.” Stiles didn’t look up from his task, not going to let Derek distract him.

“I can see that,” he stated in annoyance. “ _Why_?”

“I’m going running with you.”

“Why would you… You can’t keep up with me.”

“Gee, thanks,” Stiles gave him a wry smile. “That’s exactly why I want to do this.”

Finishing with his shoelaces, Stiles straightened and shook his legs out before heading toward the door. Derek didn’t move, staring at Stiles with his forehead creased in a very familiar fashion.

“Come on, let’s head out. I’m so ready for this.”

“You don’t like to run.”

“I don’t like always being the one to come in last either.” Stiles looked back after opening the door. Derek still hadn’t moved a single muscle.

“Or do you not want me there?” Stiles asked, standing the slightest bit straighter as he stared the werewolf in the eyes. “Because that’s the impression I’m getting. More and more often.”

“It’s not like that,” it burst out of Derek, his jaw snapping back shut with tension.

“Well, what am I supposed to think?”

“You know it’s not like that.”

“Do I?” Stiles’ heartbeat didn’t skip over his words, every sincere thud loud in Derek’s ears. Swallowing heavily, the grim look on his face finally wavered. He was aware that he wasn’t very vocal about his feelings but he had been sure Stiles knew. Apparently the younger male was questioning them; Derek’s feelings, their relationship, the two of them.

“I…”

“Yes? You… come on, talk to me, Derek.” _You can trust me_ , he wanted to say, but if Derek didn’t do so by now, telling him wouldn’t change his mind. “Please.”

“Stiles, just...” There was silence and it was threatening and it was loud, in both their heartbeats and in Stiles’ hopeful gaze. It was too much. There was too much for Derek to say that he couldn’t bring out a word. “…either come along or don’t.” He managed to slip past the other without any contact even if Stiles was taking up half of the doorway. He didn’t look back either, starting for the tree line without waiting for Stiles to catch up.

∞

_I see white teeth shining through the black and blue  
Say it out loud, say it out loud, I'll still be there for you_

∞

They didn’t talk about it any further. Derek retreated further into himself and hesitated when it came to touching Stiles, as if he had to convince himself it was the right thing to do. It hurt. But Stiles bit the insides of his cheek and kept quiet in fear of driving him away completely if he said anything more. It worked to a certain degree. They managed to fit it into their daily routine, even if it meant not being wrapped up in each other’s embrace at night in bed, even if they watched movies on separate ends of the couch.

Eventually Stiles couldn’t find anything to say anymore either. The only things that came to mind were all the things that would break the careful balance between them. The thoughts circled and returned with doubled force when he tried to cast them away. They raised his anxiety, prevented him from accomplishing anything and he took more Adderall in attempt to cope.

It worked until one day it didn’t and Derek came home to Stiles frantically packing a backpack. A sense of distress and the faint scent of salt washed over Derek the moment he stepped into the house and he searched for Stiles’ heartbeat to follow it to their bedroom. It was fast and hard, only intensifying Derek’s own panic. He tried to keep himself composed, if only because there was no immediate threat around. There had been no monster to fight for a few months, no strange scents anywhere in the preserve, no mysterious happenings. Except that Stiles was gathering all his essentials, leaving Derek’s untouched.

Derek didn’t dare enter the room, lingering in the doorway and observing, his throat closing up more and more with every second.

“What’s going on?” he asked, voice careful, calculating his next best move. It felt similar to when he was fighting an enemy, all senses heightened, on his toes and ready to react within a split second. He watched Stiles’ shoulders rise tensely as his movements faltered, a sniff ringing through the otherwise empty house. There was no answer though, even as he started packing again, not until he had finished and slung the backpack over his shoulder, finally turning to Derek, approaching him.

His gaze met red rimmed eyes, tear stained cheeks and a quivering lip when he took a breath.

“Nothing,” he was told, almost casual, except for the bitterness that snuck into Stiles’ tone. It matched the sour frustration that Derek could sense on the male. He didn’t know what to say next, because it was obviously not nothing. This was not nothing.

“Nothing is ever wrong is it? Everything is always just fine. You’re just absolutely fine. I’m fine. That’s all. That’s… that’s it. There’s nothing else left.” Stiles shrugged, the action appearing strangely violent. He wiped the tears away with his sleeve, even though new ones gathered to fill his deep brown eyes. For some reason they just made the glare harder to bear.

“Stiles,” Derek started softly and reach out to place a hand on his arm. Denying and keeping his distance instead of looking for comfort in him wasn’t typical for the younger male. Stiles hissed and jerked away the second Derek’s fingertips touched his skin.

“Don’t! Don’t fucking touch me.” There was a shudder in his voice and his heartbeat spiked but Derek immediately took a step back with wide eyes at the amount of anger in his voice. In all their arguments, in all the times Derek felt he hadn’t deserved the warmth, Stiles had always shared his touch. Now his demeanor was absolutely cold. Letting out a breath, Stiles squared his shoulders and lifted his chin in determination. He was oddly quiet all of a sudden.

“Stiles?” It wasn’t the first time Derek hated himself for the way he was in loss of words. His chest would restrict tightly and take all of his thorough thoughts, everything he meant to say, and hide it away. The other didn’t reply, just raised his eyebrows in a silent request for further explanation. Silence spread between them, making the rift grow bigger and all Derek could hear was his pitiful voice calling the other in repeat in his head.

_What are you doing? Why? Why are you separating your stuff from mine? Where are you going to go? Why are you leaving?_ He wanted to ask but his mind was already offering him answers to these without his help. It was already past time that Stiles realized he was better off without him. He didn’t deserve someone like this human; lively and loud enough for both of them, strong enough for both of them.

“Yeah,” Stiles let out a bitter laugh, throwing his arm out to prove his point. “Exactly. There it is. You have nothing to say to me. I don’t think that’s how it’s supposed to be… and honestly, I don’t feel like pretending this could be something if it can’t. I’m tired, okay? I’m tired of-“

“I love you, Stiles.”

He should just let him leave. It would be the right thing to do, Derek knew that.

He also knew that he was the only thing keeping him together. If Stiles left, he lost everything. Stiles was everything to him. Stiles, whose hands could hold all his broken pieces together, whose soft kisses made his jagged edges feel softer, whose words drowned out all the hate wedged in his mind; Stiles, who was making a sound between a whimper and laugh, Derek couldn’t tell. It sounded painful and he heard his teeth click together when his jaw shut tightly.

“You _can’t_ just say things like _that_ ,” Stiles accused, the desperation in his tone causing his voice to break and Derek suddenly realized that the human was doing just that right before his eyes; breaking - but not the way he usually did. Stiles would work himself into a frenzy until he crumbled and deflated and his strength left him. He always fought until it was time to let go; let someone – Derek – take care of him. Stiles never picked his things up and ran. Stiles never sounded this unhappy. Derek thought his heart would break if the other left him; that that would destroy whatever was left of it, but no, it was seeing Stiles like this and knowing that he was the one who was causing him pain that did it.

All he had ever wanted was to protect Stiles, to keep him safe from harm and take care of him, to provide him with not only the essentials but also his intellectual needs, as well as the one who made him feel as if he was in control of the situation, to keep the poisonous darkness of his mind far away from him before he tainted him.

“No,” Stiles continued, breaths rasping but still with anger. “You _don’t get_ to say things like that. Not when- You don’t talk, I get that. You know that I don’t mind that you’re not as talkative. No one talks as much as I do and I don’t expect you to. I wouldn’t expect it from anyone, let alone you. You’re a man of action. ‘Actions speak louder than words’ and all that. Yes, I’m totally all for that. But when it comes down to it – to the really important stuff – you push me away. You don’t let me in. You turn away from me and you put on your stupid mask as if I can’t see right through that bullshit. Seriously, who do you take me for?” Stiles laughed bitterly to veil the hurt, his forehead creasing as he threw an arm out in frustration. Derek fought the urge to wince and draw back, not because of the angry gesture, but because of the words. He knew where this was going, had always been subconsciously aware of it, always pushing the matter away and telling himself, _it was better that way_.

“All your actions, they tell me I’m not enough. You trust me but not enough to talk to me about everything going on in your head. You trust me to talk for you when we’re out and you don’t feel like talking but you don’t tell me so many things I know you want to say – need to say. You trust me to save your life but not to save you from yourself. I’m obviously not enough to reach you wherever you’ve run off to deep inside somewhere. You just keep running.

“I tried, okay? I did everything I could without pushing you. I tried… helping. I tried running with you but you won’t let me. And yeah, I guess I was blinded by love for a while thinking, hey, maybe if I love him enough he can learn to love me back or maybe my love is enough for the both of us. But it’s not.”

Derek caught the way his breath quivered over the last word and god, he hated himself so much right now. For making Stiles feel exactly this emotion. How often had the younger male confessed that that was one of his deepest issues? How often did he trust Derek with such information?

Stiles talked a lot but for all the words that exploded from his mouth, there were things he didn’t say, unless in deepest confidence; like the way he had felt like he hadn’t done enough for his mother to keep her alive, he hadn’t been a good enough son for her to recognize her at times, his love for her hadn’t been sufficient to keep her alive – it was a fairy tale view to have on life, but he had been 8 years old back then. After that he hadn’t been enough for his father; not enough to keep him sober for the first few years, not enough to come home to every night; not enough for Lydia to look at him; just never enough, no matter the heart and energy he put in all the things he did. Even the little things. Even when he would just look at Derek, Derek could feel all the love and warmth anyone could ever possess radiating off of Stiles.

Stiles had always confessed and Derek remembered how he would always fall silent after his confession and he realized, it must have not just been because of the emotional strength it required. Stiles had been waiting for him to reciprocate. And he never had.

There wasn’t even time for the werewolf to process all that had been said before Stiles continued talking.

“And you _don’t get to say_ … say that you love me when it’s not there. Not in the things you do. You don’t love me. Not like this. This can’t be it for us, Derek. –You know so well that I understand you blaming yourself and trying to keep all the ‘ _bad_ ’ to yourself but – I’m making this about myself again, I know and I’m sorry but I just can’t- I cannot watch you continuing to hurt yourself like that, continuing it punish yourself. You think you’re just doing it to yourself but you’re not. I was always in all this with you. I’d stick my hand into fire alongside yours in full knowledge that I don’t heal like you do and I wouldn’t mind my own hand. I could bear that pain. But I can’t watch you torture yourself over and over again. Maybe,” and here Stiles faltered shortly, “Maybe there’s someone else out there who can do what I obviously can’t. Someone- somebody who you can learn to trust… someone who is enough. Enough to let them love you. Because you’re not letting me do that.” Another uncertain breath, the anger having dissipated from his whole figure. “And it’s time for me to accept that and back off, give you a chance to find that… what you need.”

Stiles wasn’t looking at him anymore and well, Derek surely didn’t deserve to have the young male’s loving gaze bestowed upon him but it wasn’t about him anymore. It hadn’t been just about him for a long time now. He had just been too eager to take all the pain on his shoulders and try to wear it down. He had been so lost in his head that he hadn’t noticed he was leaving Stiles in the dust behind him, moving away. Every time Stiles had tried to pull him out of it, he had turned Stiles down.

There were so many, so terrifyingly many mistakes in his past. There were the ones he had made only a minute earlier; but he would be damned if he made this mistake. This time he would not fight the instinct, he would not push it all away and run. It was past time he learned from Stiles. It was time he let the past go and let himself have the present and all the possibilities of the future.

When he reached for Stiles this time, the reaction wasn’t as explosive. He still resisted and opened his mouth to protest, not looking up even as Derek tried to gently tilt his chin up, not until Derek spoke up.

“Stop,” he pleaded and at first he wasn’t sure he had said anything at all, except Stiles looked at him and stopped trying to tug his wrist out of his grip. “Just stop… for a moment. Don’t- don’t leave.”

Derek wanted to weep in gratefulness seeing as Stiles was actually giving him another chance, falling silent and waiting. How Stiles was ever so patient around him he would never understand.

“I took you for granted, I-… I kept fighting myself so much about how I didn’t deserve you that, that you deserved better and I still selfishly took what you were offering me and I-“ he trailed off, almost having worked himself up to a pant trying to find the words to describe the amount of emotion that welled up in him when it came to Stiles. Emotions that contrasted sharply to all the dark shades of his mind; emotions and colors so foreign that they scared him, despite being so beautiful – maybe that was exactly why; emotions so strong they were stronger for him and maybe that’s why he had been running – it was the only way he knew how to deal with something he couldn’t fit. And of course it couldn’t work- it had never worked but- if he had Stiles…

“I need you,” he then exhaled. He let his head hang and felt Stiles’ touch soon after, his fingers touching his shoulder, pulling him forward and into an embrace that he didn’t know which of them needed more. Stiles’ fingers are running through his hair and he’s letting him press his nose into his neck and just breathe while he clutched at his shirt at the height of his heartbeat.

“This is… it’s hard- I don’t know- I never-“

“I know,” Stiles soothed him quietly when Derek choked on his own words and he held on tight, with all the strength Derek didn’t have in that moment. “I know.”

“But with you, Stiles… for you. I want to.” He had pulled back to look Stiles in the eyes and show he was serious, even if his own were a little glossy with tears. Stiles brought his hand forward to cup his cheek.

“I know you’re trying, Derek. I know you’re doing your best and I love you for it,” he replied in a whisper, “But goddammit, just let me love you.”

“Okay,” Derek breathed and the shudder that passed through him and left him feeling boneless made it all the more real. Or maybe that was just from the way Stiles was looking at him, a small smile quirking on his face.

“And Stiles?”

“Yeah?”

“I meant it. I really do love you.”

**Author's Note:**

> Song in the summary: Don't be no fake (brave face) by Adrian Hayward  
> Lyrics in the fic are from: Your Brave Face by Nik Kershaw
> 
> My first fic! I hope you enjoy :)  
> Also! I suck at tagging things so if I should add something, tell me^^  
> None of this would've been possible without the awesome, beautiful and highly talented [Emma](http://archiveofourown.org/users/Emela/pseuds/Emela) [(tumblr)](http://pale-silver-comb.tumblr.com)! <3  
> Lots of thanks to the wonderful [Gal](http://theincarnatefireofhell.tumblr.com/) for helping me set this up! :))  
> FOR YOU IRMY ♥


End file.
